My Beautiful Monster
by TH3angelinH3LL
Summary: No, not her. We don’t think about her anymore. It pains us so. So does referring to myself as us. Currently rated T for cursing, later chapters WILL BE M
1. No Silence

**Authors Note:** I do not profit from the writing of this story. All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Don't sue me, you won't get any money ;]. Reviewing would be lovely as this is the first Angel fic I've written that sounds good enough for public viewing. XD Give me ideas, compliments, constructive criticism. Whatever ;x. Also this is the first fic in my history of writing [approximately 10 years] that I have ever written from someones POV. Be kind, rewind.

The night was still. Unnervingly quiet, even for a vampire like me. The silence disrupted my thoughts as it always did and brought back waves of memories of a uniquely painful nature. Thoughts of my former life as Liam, my pathetic excuse for an undead family, friends lost in fighting the good fight and lost loves. _Buffy_. No, not her. We don't think about her anymore. It pains us so. So does referring to myself as us.

I suppose us wouldn't be incorrect though. I had always counted the demon as a separate person although at the same time a part of me and everything I did. Everything I do. It always seems to keep itself at a low boil just underneath the skin. At times influencing my actions much more than it should. Lately the demon has been quiet, kept at bay by widdling my hours away in mundane tasks, meant to keep my mind off of nearly three hundred years of remorse. But dear me some of those years were good.

I can remember Angelus being delighted by the pretty mess of words Drusilla would always string together. She had the voice of angels and a kindness to her not many could or would understand. How pure and innocent she had been before I got to her. Before I broke her. I seem to have an uncanny knack for breaking people. Human and immortal.

How beautiful she'd looked twirling in the fields of jasmine by the moonlight. The bottom of her skirts stained in crimson, expanding out around her to dance among the breeze. How I missed those days. Days when all she could do was sit her head in my lap and talk to roses. But how I'd sometimes leave her for days, weeks… years without sight nor word from me. All I had to do was walk in the door and surprise her and I'd be forgiven. Oh how her face would light up as she'd bound over to me, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

And poor William. Hopelessly in love with my beautiful creation. My beautiful monster. He was a good chap, annoying more than anything, but only interested in Drusilla's desires. Unless she happened to have a taste for me on that evening. She rarely didn't. So I endured the death glares and cheap shots from William just to watch him squirm. It delighted me so. And Darla as well.

Dear, sweet, unforgiving Darla. I hated her and she the same to me. But we amused each other for periods of time and delighted in each others company. I wouldn't say that we loved each other, or even liked each other for that matter. Each merely found the other tolerable and easy to talk to. Not to mention compatible in bed. Ah, there were some good times there. But I still tend to find it rather strange how in a moments decision we would both choose to abandon each other to save ourselves. And by gods we did. More times than I could care to remember. It's a funny thing when ones creator, sire if you will, can leave you to burn without so much as a glance over their shoulder. But in that Darla taught me one of life's hardest lessons - a lesson my father had also tried to teach me, before I ripped his throat out that is- rejection. Alienation. Solitude. Whatever you'd like to call it, they're all different shades of rejection.

A slight rustle came from the lower levels of the hotel, a sound that brought a brief smile to my face. A sound that could distract me from my rambling reverie. By the time I'd made it downstairs to the lobby the sound had stopped. If I had to pinpoint it, I'd say it was near the doors to the courtyard… which are open? There was a scent behind the blooming jasmine. One I could faintly recognize. Sniffing at the air a bit more I moved forward, keeping my senses alert should my late night visitor decide to be foolish. Vampire. Female? A flash of dark, provocative color answered my questions and I rested my hands in my pockets, quirking a brow.

"Hello Daddy, I've been looking for you." She crouched in the flowers, her head craned in their direction but her eyes on me. "I could hear you laughing to me across the distances between us. Your jasmine sings for me like Spike used to."

I couldn't hide a smile and took a few steps closer to lean in the doorway. "Hello Drusilla."

She petted the flowers with her fingertips, turning her gaze to them. "He reeks of purity darlings, how shall we clean his insides?" Pulling the buds off of a plant she squealed with delight, "It felt wretched and delicious didn't it!" Drusilla stood, making her way, twirling in the moonlight, to stand by Angel. "They're pretty like maggots, aren't they? Precious little ladybug houses and scrumptious crumpets!"

Crossing my arms over my chest I chuckled a bit at the familiarity of it all. "Drusilla I never have even a faint idea of what your talking about, but it always has delighted me so." The demon was speaking for me, making a connection to one of the only people that ever loved it. The scariest part is that I'm not planning on stopping it, either.

"Liam, Liam calling to my heart strings and playing in my brain worms. It tickles." Her face grew cross, her bottom lip jutting out in an aggravated pout. "His purity burns us to the innards, doesn't it?" Looking up briefly to the sky she focused back on me, "The stars agree, Angel it's time to set him free." She clapped and bounced excitedly.

Maybe she was right.

"I can smell William on you, where does it hide? In your sewer of purity, it does!" Drusilla pushed past me, sniffing her way into the lobby and towards the stairs.

Turning to follow behind I was surprised she hadn't tried to attack me yet. Perhaps she knew something I didn't. "Drusilla?" Her ears qwerked in my direction but she continued her way up the staircase. "Why are you here?" I followed behind her, knowing exactly where she was headed.

"I saw him in my head. He's going to be reborn daddy!"

Some part of me knew she was right. A part of me was even happy about it. I've saved the world enough, what's a few hundred years as Angelus? No. BAD Angel! I physically shook my head at this, following her down a hallway.

"I can hear the dolls singing to me, daddy." She paused, a hand outstretched and her pointer finger tapping rhythmically in the air as if sending out Morse Code. "A warning!" She gasped, her eyes glazing over to a far away place, "Not he, but she is coming a different way." Drusilla slunk into the darkness, sliding down the wall and huddling her knees to her chin. "The white light is coming for me, daddy!"

Before I could respond the stench of magic filled the air, remnants of a very powerful spell clinging to Dru. She shook, falling over to curl into the fetal position. I reacted on my first instinct and went to her side, bunching her up in my arms. "What is it?" A door down the hall creaked open. Not. Now. SPIKE. I could hear his boots pounding down the hallway. So much for stealth.

"What's that ya' got there Frumpy?" The clumping of his footsteps stopped right beside me.

"Your never going to believe it." I stood, holding her in my arms and pushed past him to my bedroom.

"Dru…"

I didn't hear him following so I knew he would be standing there with his mouth hanging open for a long, long time. With some luck I jiggled the door open and hurried to the bedside, placing her down gently. "Drusilla?" I'm still not sure why I'm even bothering. I still held some of her scars on my body.

She shook horribly, a disgusted look on her face. "I reek like you two! The horrible stench of purity! I feel like a waffle!"

Spike bounded into the room, "You fucking bitch!"

"**Spike. Not now." I'm assuming he noted her shivering because he stopped talking and only a tiny, squeaking sound came from him. "I think…. I mean… I could be wrong but-"**

"**She has a soul."**


	2. Porcupine

"No, no it's all wrong!" Drusilla sat upright against the headboard, itching fingernail marks into her skin.

I raised a brow, "What is?" Reaching over I put my hands on hers, calming them from their already bloodied routine.

"The pictures in my head… The words, everything!"

Somehow that just made sense to me. "What else is coming, Dru?"

Her gaze shifted to the balcony doors which I'd left open to let the night air in. "The spell wasn't for us in my head, but it is now." She closed her eyes, "He is still coming."

Okay, that didn't make any sense. Just roll with it. "Who's he?"

Her eyes snapped open, darting to me. "A prickly friend. Do you like porcupines daddy?"

"What?" Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drive her completely insane. "No, I don't. I had enough of them when we were playing Bonnie and Clyde."

Drusilla giggled greatly at this, "I always did like your prickly ass."

Subconsciously I gave myself a booty check, with the relived memory I could still feel it's barbs deep in my behind. "When is he coming?"

"_What the hell are you doin' 'ere?"_

"_Me? I live here pet."_

That voice. In my hallway. It couldn't be. There was no way. I had begged the Oracles of his life. It's just not possible. Right?

Drusilla clapped her hands, "Spikey is not very nicey!"

Before I could even get up to open the door it swung open, a pair of familiar blue eyes staring back at me. "Doyle?"

"Pick ye'r chin up man. You'll start droolin'."

Spike huffed, "I tried to stop him, but Irish equals moron as usual."

"Spike!" It took a moment, "So does British."

"Since when did ya' start takin' in the mentally retarded Vamps?" He sniffed a bit, "With souls no less."

I could feel a smile creeping upon my features, but I held it back. Must. ALWAYS. Brood. "Wait… I'm confused. Not in a good way."

"Pfft, it's the Irish." Spike pulled a pack of Marlboro from his pants pocket and lit one, filling my room with smoke in a few moments.

"Geez, a man comes from another dimension, through hell and fire and all he gets is I'm confused? Glad to see you've been bucking up on your interaction skills while I've been gone."

"You went to Acathala?"

"No, not really. I just kind of poofed out of Limbo to here. I guess this is my punishment."

"He reeks of holiness, daddy."

Looking around myself I froze., eyes darting to avoid everyone's gaze. Too much happening all at once. "Everyone out." I received a laundry list of confused looks, "Just… go." As Doyle turned I tugged the sleeve to his jacket, "Not you. Spike take Dru somewhere… else."

Drusilla pouted, "Daddy doesn't want us anymore, he's giving us away."

Spike tossed an arm around her, "Don't worry pet, what Daddy doesn't want ole' Spike will gladly take." He, for once, shut the door behind himself. I guess the yelling helped.

"So…"

Doyle sat on the bed, making himself comfortable.

"Tell me a bedtime story."

**AN:** I'm going to revamp -no pun intended- this, I don't like where it's going and it needs more detail along with a few other well thought out things. It may take me a little while, but I do intend to make this better. I know a few of you liked it as is, but I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to writing fic's and this one bothers me that it's so lacking. Sense Memory stole my plot bunnies and attention for a little while and it even has a few chapters I'm not happy with. But... now that I've rambled... *poof!*


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